The Other Side of Never
by BiteMarks
Summary: Josef and Beth take a risk together to get closer to Mick, and end up getting closer to one another than they anticipated.
1. Chapter 1

**The Other Side of Never**

**Part 1: The Crime**

The woman approached Josef from the darkest corner of the room, light falling across only her scarlet lips and pale décolletage. Smiling at him seductively, she took his hand and led him out through the large French doors and away from the crowded ballroom. Music and laughter and the tinkling of crystal glassware against drink trays faded behind them. Moonlight bathed the terrace in a romantic silver-blue sheen. Josef opened his mouth to speak and she rested her forefinger against his lips. She looked up, his gaze following hers. Overhead a balcony surrounded by rounded pilasters led into the second floor of the mansion. It was a long way up.

The woman stepped closer to Josef and threw her arms around his neck, her body trembled and she pressed it firmly along his length. She looked up at him expectantly, her face radiant in the moonlight.

"Are you making me an offer I can't refuse Ms Turner?" He teased. "What? Are you blushing?"

She tapped him across the shoulder in feigned annoyance and looked up at him pointedly, then across to the balcony. He looked down at her; then at the balcony above.

"Oh no Blondie, you can't be serious."

"Come on Josef, no one saw us come in. Now is our best chance."

"I am _not_ jumping up onto that balcony with you." He swivelled his head to allow the full impact of his russet irises to take effect and smiled winningly. "Couldn't we just bribe the guards and walk up the stairs like civilized cat burglars?"

Beth was unamused. "Getting up there will be a piece of cake for you Josef. You practically have superhero powers."

"They wear tights for a reason Buzzwire. If you haven't noticed, I'm in Armani."

"Stop being such a fussy pants," she said clinging to him even more tightly. "We're wasting time. Jump already."

He regarded her for a moment, the traces of moonlight on her eyelids and cheekbones giving her an appearance of delicacy, making her seem fey and otherworldly, a woman to risk nations for. He rolled his eyes.

"Buckle up Blondie."

He wrapped his arms tightly about her waist, allowing his hands to slide along the slick satin of her gown for an instant, and leapt upward with a strength that startled her. For a moment she felt a thrill of fear, a high tight shallowness in her throat, then she was standing safely against the rough stone pilasters, heart fluttering wildly, in the circle of Josef's arms. She gasped, smiling broadly.

"Wheeee!" She said in a delighted whisper. "Lets do that again Daddy!"

He lowered his chin and gazed out at her from beneath his brows. "Don't ever call me Daddy unless you want to be sent to my room with a spanking Beth."

Her eyes widened, the pupils dilating momentarily. She wasn't entirely sure he was joking. They held each other's gaze - then broke apart hastily; Beth brushing non-existent particles of plaster from her midnight blue gown, Josef straightening his immaculate jacket.

He cleared his throat. "So where did you say the safe was?" He said, careful not to catch her eye.

"Unbelievably, its behind the portrait on the far wall," she said briskly, staring pointedly at the gold handle on the glass door in front of her.

"Hmmph… he always did lack imagination."

"That's what you think." She muttered to herself and pushed the gold handle downward.

Josef and Beth crept into the room through the French windows, leaving the door open behind them. A bright column of moonlight entered through the open doorway like a silver path and led them across the floor to a bulky antique desk, like a drawbridge guarding an enormous gold-framed portrait on the wall behind.

Even in the shadowy half-light of the study the portrait held an undeniable power. The artist who had captured the woman was a genius. Her waifishly slender form was draped in a skintight red velvet gown, a blood red that seemed to shimmer with an inner fire. One strap fell from her shoulder, exposing the top of a creamy breast, and one bare foot peeked out from beneath a hem held up with her left hand. Although her dark hair was swept up, several tendrils fell softly about her face. Her lips were caught between her teeth in a half smile and her dark almond shaped eyes looked dreamy and seductive, as if she'd been caught after a moment of illicit lovemaking, or in the process of inviting one. She was breathtakingly beautiful and she looked alive, not like the living undead, but alive and vital and breathing.

"She looks fat in that." Beth whispered.

"Now, now, Wilhemina, holster your weapon. Lets just get on with this and get out of here." Josef swung the portrait back to reveal a gunmetal grey safe with a small keypad. He raised one eyebrow. "I hope you don't expect me to rip that open."

She stepped in to look a little more closely and brushed against Josef's shoulder, telling herself the frisson of excitement she felt was from fear of being caught.

"Allow me," she said smugly. She opened her purse and pulled out a tiny black device, placed it over the keypad and pushed a miniscule button. Josef looked at her questioningly.

"Logan," she mouthed.

"Is there anybody you can't charm Buzzwire?"

His warm brown eyes held hers and for a dizzying second her breath caught in her throat. The question hung in the air like the sort of clumsy paper plane a pre-schooler might make, and she opened her mouth to reply. The safe door clicked open with a faint hiss.

"There should only be one thing in this safe," Beth said, reaching in with her right hand, "and here it is." She held up a small glass vial triumphantly. It was filled with clear liquid and capped with a white rubber stopper.

Suddenly the room blazed with light. Wood panelling on the opposite wall split into two sections and rolled back with a faint whirr. A slow handclap came from the shadows beyond.

This wasn't going to be pretty.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Other Side of Never**

Part 2: The Punishment

"_There should only be one thing in this safe," Beth said, reaching in with her right hand, "and here it is." She held up a small glass vial triumphantly. It was filled with clear liquid and capped with a white rubber stopper._

_Suddenly the room blazed with light. Wood panelling on the opposite wall split into two sections and rolled back with a faint whirr. A slow handclap came from the shadows beyond._

_This wasn't going to be pretty. _

Josef lifted his nose to the air. Vampire. Familiar vampire. _Dangerous_ vampire. He stepped in front of Beth, his broad back shielding her from the person beyond. She slipped the vial into her purse and snapped it closed.

A cool blonde in a black ball gown sauntered into the luxurious study, frosty eyes sliding over Beth. "You're late, Miss Turner. I expected you a _month_ ago. I _wonder _what's kept you?" she said, throwing Josef a disingenuous look. Beth looked from one to the other, wondering what she meant. Cynthia turned to Josef, her eyebrows arching in mock surprise. "I didn't expect to see you here Josef, " her eyes flitted toward Beth in a gesture too quick for a human to follow, " knowing how you feel and all."

"What does she mean?" Beth hissed out of the corner of her mouth. Josef pinched her thigh, and she shut up with a barely stifled curse.

"Cynthia," Josef said agreeably. "I'd say it was a pleasure to see you, but I only lie during business hours." Cynthia curled her upper lip.

"How - ?" Beth asked.

Cynthia looked up at the chandelier above their heads. A tiny silver camera nestled almost invisibly between the polished crystals. "I guess whoever gave you your information didn't know everything."

"Stay close," Josef whispered, then remembered who he was talking to. "Will you?"

"Like a second skin." They locked eyes, then shook their heads clear of that image. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he stepped sideways toward the balcony. Cynthia was no threat to him, but if she managed to get by him, she would drain Beth dry then snap her like kindling - and not necessarily in that order. That wasn't going to happen here tonight, not least because, like it or not, he would have to answer to Mick – eventually, he was sure – if anything happened to Beth tonight.

"I heard about your soiree and just couldn't stay away," he said with a charming smile and taking another step with Beth toward the windows. "I was sure your failure to invite the groom's sire and best friend was merely an oversight on your part. How careless of you."

Cynthia narrowed her eyes and moved to block their exit from the window. She prowled from one side of the room to the other like a hungry lioness, always moving a little closer, her eyes never leaving Beth. This ought to be fun. She owed Josef a little payback for orchestrating Coraline's meeting of Mick all those years ago – and judging by the way he was clutching Miss Turner's hand, now was the perfect time.

"Oh I can't believe my little welcome home party for the honeymooners would be of interest to you, Josef." She turned to Beth, her face a mask of false sympathy, "And poor little Miss Turner could hardly have been expected to enjoy the sight of her ex-boyfriend's happy return with his bride."

The barb was just too much. It had taken all of Beth's determination to struggle through these last few months without Mick, and hearing Mick and Coraline referred to as 'honeymooners' was like shaking a can of fresh soda and tearing off the tab. Beth exploded past Josef - "Mick isn't 'happy'. He's _drugged_!" She ripped the vial from her bag and brandished it angrily.

"Thankyou for that, Miss Turner." Beth stepped back in shock. Cynthia was beside her in the time it took for Beth to exhale. She gripped Beth's wrist tightly and plucked the vial from her hand as easily as if she was plucking a flower from a garden bed.

"Your darling ex-boyfriend isn't drugged." Cynthia laughed in her face. "This is a special concoction of mine - for Coraline. My darling has been so unhappy, I couldn't bear to see it any longer." She waggled the vial in Beth's face. "This has merely reawakened Mick's initial responses to the woman he was in love with long before you were born. One drop when worn on the skin is all that's needed to create an irresistible impulse in any vampire to express their true feelings toward the first person they encounter – well.. within three feet, give or take a few inches. They're left in a contented daze until the effects fade away completely." She paused, regarding Beth appraisingly. "Like your looks will one day, my dear."

Beth looked disgusted. "Coraline says she loves Mick. How can she keep him enslaved like this?"

"Oh Coraline doesn't _know_." Cynthia said widening her eyes and batting her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. "I give her a 'special' massage with it every evening while Mick is out keeping himself in _peak_ fitness for his wife's pleasure." She paused with an ugly smile, aware that Beth could imagine in intimate detail exactly the kind of pleasure Mick was supplying Coraline. "She thinks Mick has finally come to his senses." Cynthia yawned. "Mmm… all this boring talking is giving me an appetite." She leaned in and licked Beth's skin from collarbone to ear lobe.

"Let her go, Cynthia!" Josef snapped in a low menacing voice. He inched closer to the women, flexing his fingers. One wrong move and Cynthia would kill Beth without taking the time to drain her first.

"Oh I don't know Josef," she drawled leaning in to sniff at Beth, "I've been so busy being a good hostess, I haven't had a chance to _eat_ yet." She tightened her grip on Beth's wrist, her sharp nails digging painfully into the soft skin on the underside of Beth's forearm. Beth winced and cried out.

Josef pulled at the cuffs of his tuxedo, his face carefully neutral. "If you can't play nice Cynthia I'm going to have to hurt you. Now hand back my .." Beth looked at him, interested. Josef paused, " friend… or I'll – "

Cynthia laughed. " Or you'll what? Threaten me to death? Look around, Josef. Your security team isn't here to take care of this. We both know the most physical you ever get is lifting your finger to beckon one of your freshies over. You're no fighter, Josef. You don't have the stomach for it."

The two vampires watched as a thin trickle of blood ran down the inside of Beth's forearm.

An unfamiliar feeling of anger flushed the inside of Josef's gut. "Just because I don't fight, doesn't mean I've forgotten how. A fine distinction you're going to be educated about tonight, my dear." Josef's eyes whitened. He leapt at Cynthia in a blur of black tuxedo and Bulgari pour Homme. Cynthia snarled and raised her hands in two crimson tipped claws. Unnoticed by anyone but Beth, the precious vial bounced harmlessly onto the plush blue carpet.

Beth scooped up the vial and dropped it into her purse once more. She turned her head sharply and shot a look at Josef. Although he was clearly the stronger of the two, he was shackled by some long held chivalry, restraining the use of his full force against a woman.

Cynthia had no such principles. She tackled Josef with vigour, the sharp edge of a platinum candlestick leaving an ugly jagged gash on his forehead. He roared, and knocked the candlestick from her hands, forcing her back into the wall. Enraged, Cynthia landed two swift blows to his mid-section and he staggered two steps backward onto one knee. She pulled a painting from the wall and snapped one edge off the frame, holding the stake above Josef's head. He bared his fangs and thrust his palm upward into her jaw. Beth ran for the door.

"Not that way Beth!" Josef hissed. "The guards!"

For a moment Beth stood rooted to the spot. There were only two exits: the door into the corridor and the French doors out on to the balcony. If she chose the corridor she'd be caught. There would be no way to free Mick from his chemical prison and all this would have been for nothing. The balcony through the French doors was at least thirty feet above the terrace, with nowhere to go but down.

Josef's head snapped to the side from a powerful backhanded blow. "The balcony Beth! As fast as you can!" Cynthia flew at him, fangs arching for his jugular, the stake in one hand. "_Run_!"

Cynthia turned her fanged visage toward Beth.

"Over the balustrade." Josef urged, holding Cynthia at bay with one hand. "_Now_!"

She hesitated. Warm brown eyes met blue and held for an endless moment. Then she hoisted her skirt in both hands and ran, faster than she'd ever run before, and launched herself like an Olympic hurdler over the flaking grey concrete balustrade and into the cool night air, two stories up.

The last thing she saw as she reached the zenith of her soaring leap was the jagged stake in Cynthia's white knuckled hand arcing upward in a vicious thrust toward Josef's unprotected chest. She gasped and began to accelerate toward the cold hard tiles of the terrace far below.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3: The Escape

Josef watched in fascinated admiration as Beth vaulted over the railing, her back foot scraping the top of the balustrade and tearing the shiny black stiletto from her heel. As if in slow motion, the delicate silk shoe fell upright to the balcony paving, wobbled for a second, then fell to its side revealing a nasty rent in the fabric. An image of Beth lying broken on the terracotta tiles below flashed through his mind. Her fragile human body would never survive the fall. An unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling of self-doubt flooded him. _What if he couldn't get to her in time? _

A cold fury, like ice crystallising on the surface of a lake, spread through Josef's body. He was _NOT_ going to let Beth die. His mind cleared, and from the corner of his eye he saw the flashing movement of the upswinging stake. His left hand knocked the stake aside, the strength and speed of the older vampire shocking Cynthia. She back-pedalled; fearful for the first time, her eyes zig-zagging rapidly in search of another weapon. Josef reached out, and seized Cynthia by the back of the neck in an iron grip, squeezing harder than he needed to immobilise her. Ignoring her cry of pain, he sprang toward the French windows and_ crrack!_, knocked her skull against the wall as he flew through the open windows. Behind him, Cynthia collapsed into an unconscious ball of black tulle. His eyes were glued to the airborne Beth as his chest skidded against the balustrade. He was going to make it! His hand reached out to catch her as she began to fall below the parapet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_What had she done?!_ The recklessness of her leap struck her hard the moment her feet left the security of the balcony tiles. She was falling; her arms splayed outward in a cruel parody of a swan dive, her terror blanking out every rational thought apart from the certain fact of her impending and very messy death. Her peripheral vision narrowed, her eyes focussing only on the soft earthy shade of the terracotta tiles directly below her - which were becoming increasingly larger. _I think I lost my shoe, _she thought, _I really liked that shoe_, then _ Oh… fuuuu…! _

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Midnight blue satin slipped through his fingers as Josef watched Beth plummet toward the tiles below. _Damn!_ That wouldn't do at all. _Come on old boy, you've still got the moves._ He mounted the railing with lightning speed and took careful aim, pushing off against the guardrail with all his vampire strength, and dived in pursuit of Beth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Twelve terracotta tiles. _Oh fuck! _Eight._ Oh fuck, oh fuck! _Nowfour terracotta tiles filled her entire field of vision. _Ohfuck! Ohfuck! Ohfuck! _Beth closed her eyes and prayed the end would be quick.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Josef's shoulder thudded into the paving and he rolled, jumping to his feet in a single fluid motion. He brushed a speck of earth from the sleeve of his jacket, _and if his calculation had been correct…_. He held out his arms.

_Oooof!_ Beth crashed into Josef knocking them both backward to the ground. The breath whooshed from her lungs and two strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. She buried her face into his white dress shirt and let out a single muffled sob. Beth didn't want to open her eyes. She knew she was on the ground, that she was laying full length atop Josef on the terrace and therefore safe. She knew that, but the disorienting sensation of falling hadn't fully left her. She was clinging to him like a terrified kitten, her fingers clutching at him so tightly he was sure her nails were about to penetrate his skin. He'd only just caught her in time, and sure, she probably thought she was going to die, but they just didn't have time for this.

"Hey Buzzwire," he prodded, his uncaring drawl disguising his concern. "Are you finished whining yet? You're wrinkling my shirt."

Her face still pressed into the stiff linen on his chest, she put out a shaky hand and felt the ground beneath her tentatively, patting the smooth cool surface of the paving several times for reassurance. She rolled out of Josef's grasp and tumbled onto the hard russet tiles, rounded butt in the air.

"Let's not do that part again," she croaked.

Josef propped a hand under his chin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Knew you'd fall for me one day Blondie."

Beth's head slowly rose and the scowl on her face was truly murderous. "If you. Ever. Do that to me again," she hissed, "I'll .."

Josef didn't do repentant. And as long as she was angry she wasn't crying. He cut her off with an indulgent little smile. "Stake me? Drag me out into the desert and leave me to dry like Josef-jerky? Cut off my head?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes," she hissed.

He paused, considering that. It was never wise to under-estimate Beth. "Seems a little redundant," he said finally.

She glared at him. He grinned back at her approvingly. Beth had had a terrifying experience. Now she was safe, she was angry. It was good for humans to express their emotions, healthy even. Now she had, they could get out of here.

Beth wasn't finished. "And after that, I'll take the keys to your car, drive it to south central L.A. and leave it there."

Josef stopped smiling. Beth wasn't going to stake him or leave him to desiccate in the desert, but with her ingenuity and resourcefulness, she was more than capable of finding a way to kidnap and torture his Ferrari. He cocked his head and regarded her speculatively. She'd leapt off a building and was now threatening the oldest – and, if he had to say so himself - the scariest vamp in L.A. He hadn't seen that kind of spirit since….. He didn't want to go there.

Something shifted in him then, deep within his ancient chest, an echo of something long forgotten, and unknowingly his gaze intensified in the way a man's does when he's about to kiss a woman, really kiss her. He heard her heartbeat skip in the strangest way. _Probably just an aftershock of her fall._ He leaned across to her slowly and kissed her cheek, grazing the outer edge of her mouth. "You're a remarkable woman, Buzzwire." He held her eyes. "Now I don't mean to be insensitive, but I'm getting stains on my favourite tuxedo, and then there's that little matter of, oh, that we're likely to be invited back to the big house by men with guns soon if we don't get out of here."

Josef helped Beth to her feet and she took one limping step. "Ow," she winced. Josef frowned and hunkered down, gently lifting the sole of her foot and resting it on his palm. Large rounded drops of blood oozed outward in a sticky crimson mess from a long cut on her big toe. His cool fingers rotated her ankle to examine the cut from another angle. He didn't see the way she looked down at the back of his expensively cropped head, couldn't know how struck she was by the contrast with Mick's wavy length, or that she'd noticed, for the first time, the elegant lines of his neck, and the breadth of his shoulders.

He looked up at her with a reassuring smile.

"We're going to have to work on your hurdling technique, Blondie, but I think you'll live." He caressed the outer edge of his thumb along the rim of the cut, expertly gathering the excess droplets, and closed his lips around the bloodied thumb-pad, sucking the blood slowly from its surface.

She gasped, shocked. Mick had never tasted her blood so casually, avoided even the semblance of curiosity about tasting her. Josef had sampled her blood so casually, as if he had a right to. "I… we need to get away," she whispered, confused by the intimacy of his action. His fingers closed around her foot.

"As long as you're with me, you'll make your escape in style Ms Turner." He steadied himself with one knee on the ground, like a suitor ready to propose, and pulled her missing stiletto from his pocket. She smiled at him with delight and he sensed the warm flush of her skin. She held her breath as he angled her foot, sliding the shoe gently along its length and up over her heel with an odd tenderness, and shivered, _surely a delayed reaction to her plunge_, as he bent his head and fastened the shoe's tiny strap around her ankle. Josef looked up at her, the planes of his handsome face glowing within a halo of moonlight. "We need to hurry. Think you can make it to the road?

Beth glanced at her legs. They felt like jelly. "I'm not sure I can walk let alone run."

Josef smiled. "Don't worry about that, Blondie. You're not the only one with a trick or two up your sleeve." He pulled a remote out of his pocket and pressed the soft button in the centre. A black Land Rover crashed through the hedge bordering the property with a crunch of gears and sped over the soft turf of the lawn toward them. It turned sharply, chopping up the springy grass, and screeched to a stop in front of them. A rear door flung open.

"Who says you can never get a taxi in this town?" said Josef. He swept her up in a bundle of blue satin and stepped into the car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A dark figure stepped from the shadow of the mansion and watched Josef and Beth speed away across the lawn. Someone was going to pay for this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4: The Betrayal**

Two things became glaringly obvious the moment the security guard kicked in the door, rolled across the floor, and popped up into a cat-like crouch, outstretched arms holding gun barrel at the ready. The first was the yawning cavity of the empty safe exposed by the open portrait of Coraline; the second was a bored-looking Cynthia Davis preening calmly before a majestic gold-framed mirror at the far end of the room.

"I _really_ need to ban the security staff from watching re-runs of Die Hard," she sighed, smoothing a hair back into place.

The guard lumbered to his feet, nearly tripping over a kink in the carpet formed by his heroic entrance. She gave his reflection in the mirror a fleeting look, shaking her head with disdain.

"Ms. Davis, the safe has been robbed!"

She put some finishing touches to her lipstick. "Are you sure you don't want to phone a friend about that?" She drawled, and ran her tongue over her teeth, smiling back at her reflection.

The guard stopped short, his broad face almost comical in its confusion. _She wanted him to telephone someone? _He had that Wile E. Coyote hanging-over-the-edge-of-a-precipice feeling again. He'd missed something, sadly an all too frequent occurrence during the course of his lengthy existence. He shook his head as if it were surrounded by a biting cloud of gnats, frustration blooming red on both cheeks, and pressed on. "The thieves are escaping the grounds!"

"I know, you cretin."

He blinked, his mouth flapping like a harpooned fish. In his youth he'd been an enforcer for Al Capone, a steady job for those having inverse proportions of brawn to brain matter, and he was big, even by the standards required of the muscle in those days. He'd been turned not long after Big Al had gone down for tax evasion and had protected the homes and the bodies of wealthy vampires ever since. In all that time, in both his human and his vampire incarnations, he'd tackled all sorts of intruders; some neither vampire nor human, and he'd never flinched, never backed down from any altercation, ever. He kept his mouth shut. Cynthia Davis was scary.

"Bring me Mr. St. John."

The guard holstered his weapon, relieved to be able to leave the room. "Yes Ma'am."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Josef eased the champagne cork out of the bottle with a whisper of scented air and glanced across at Beth, examining her face and body language for a clue to her state of mind. She'd been through an unexpected ordeal this evening and she looked tired - it wasn't every day that the only thing to come between a girl and certain death was a vampire in a designer dinner jacket. He, on the other hand, felt exhilarated. The excitement of tonight's adventure made him feel young again, as if he wasn't a day over two hundred, and felt almost as good as the first rush of blood over his fangs after a kill. He grinned with pleasure. Tonight reminded him how satisfying it felt to hunt with a companion by his side. That it was with a human made him a little uneasy. _Better not let the guys at the club know that._ He really needed to get out more.

He reached for a crystal champagne flute, his eyes taking in the curves of Beth's body accentuated by the sheen of her satin gown in the candlelight as she reclined in languid comfort against a pair of goose down throw pillows. Although her face was in shadow, her heart sounded out a steady rhythm in the quiet of his private study, almost as if nothing had happened that evening worthy of causing it the slightest deviation. His eyes flicked to the now bandaged toe. The memory of her sailing over the banister was a sight he'd never forget. Small and feminine she might be, but she was also as tough as a pair of his handmade leather loafers. He hadn't met many humans in his four hundred years who would have taken a leap of faith like the one she'd taken earlier this evening. It reminded him of someone he once knew.

He poured a generous amount of sparkling gold liquid into a frosted flute and handed it to her, his index finger brushing the side of her little finger as she leaned forward to accept the glass from his hand. He thought he heard her heartbeat accelerate for a moment, and looked up quickly; but she was merely sipping her champagne, her eyes cast downward like a demure Japanese schoolgirl. His eyes snapped shut as a sudden image of her flipping back her long blonde hair to offer him the exposed column of her creamy throat invaded his mind, unsettling him. Complete control of his thoughts and his emotions and his actions had come at a heavy cost for Josef, and he prized it more highly than his bank balance. His reputation, and his life, depended on it. He let out a rueful sigh. He'd never fantasized about feeding from Beth before, and he felt a little frisson of guilt. Only Mick had that right. Perhaps he'd simply left it too long between meals. He shrugged off his dinner jacket, throwing it carelessly over his office chair, and loosened his tie, tugging the top button of his shirt undone. He perched against his desk, cocked an eyebrow, and raised his glass to her.

"To my partner in crime."

Beth smiled and raised the glass to her lips, the effervescent pop of tiny bubbles against her tongue making her tingle all over. She wriggled a little further into the feather cushioning of the settee. "You had this on ice all along?" she asked, pointing the rim of her glass toward the frosted champagne bucket, her voice mellow with contentment.

A wry grin crossed his face. "If there's one thing I've learned, Blondie, it's that there's no point saying 'no' to you." He paused and looked at her intently. "You always get what you want in the end." For one startling moment he found himself wanting to make a comment he'd never say aloud while Mick lived, and raked a hand through his hair in frustrated annoyance. He smiled a little too brightly and raised his glass to his lips, taking a deep swallow of the chilled liquid. "I never doubted you'd succeed."

Beth was quiet for a moment, not for the first time this evening sensing something unspoken between them. From the corner, the relentless tick-tick-ticking of the antique grandfather clock Josef kept to remind him of everyone else's mortality created a mounting tension in the room. Beth unfolded her legs and slid off the couch, crossing the three steps to Josef's desk. She stopped a hair's breadth from his shoulder and held his gaze.

"I couldn't have succeeded without you. Thank you," she whispered, raising on tiptoe and placing a soft kiss against his cheek. "Not just for tonight, but for everything you've done for me over the last few months. I couldn't have asked for a better friend than you, Josef."

The corner of his mouth rose in a brief, bitter, lop-sided smile. Beth was beautiful, but she was nothing to him but Mick's girl; just one plucky human amongst a plague of them, neither better nor worse than any other human woman he'd met in the last fifty years. Josef regarded her evenly. The careful chignon of her early evening disguise now lay in ruins about her shoulders in an attractive tousled jumble of soft blonde waves. He'd never seen her looking more beautiful and he knew that, at this hour, and in the secluded privacy of a darkened room such as this, another man would have brushed the hair from the back of her neck and leaned in to place a kiss where it had lain against the warmth of her skin. Another man would have pulled her into his arms, uncaring that she was his best friend's lover, and revelled in the sensation of her body melting into his embrace. And perhaps even, if that man were a vampire, he would have allowed himself the ultimate pleasure: sliding his fangs into skin like butter, the tip of his tongue caressing the twin signs of his passage with heart-stoppingly slow devotion, her moans warming him to his frozen sinews. Josef put down his glass and gripped the edge of his desk, the bleached backbones of his knuckles violently pale in the gloom of the study.

For a moment, it seemed to Beth as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and she couldn't breathe. She shivered.

"You're cold." Josef said, after what seemed an age. Then lightly, "I don't usually allow humans in this room Beth, I'll get the cashmere throw from the drawing room."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The guard headed toward the door then stopped, standing still, as if at attention. Cynthia sighed. Had he forgotten already whom he was to fetch? "I _said_, bring me Mr. St. John." She turned to admonish the guard further and she too, stopped short. Lance Duvall stood in the centre of the room watching her with the menacing stillness he seemed to wear like a uniform. She waved the guard away.

"Josef Kostan and St. John's human entered this house this evening?" His stare felt like a silver switchblade at her throat.

Her chin tilted rose in a defiant tilt. "Yes."

His calm was the most frightening thing she'd ever seen. "I oversaw every detail of the security arrangements personally," he said conversationally. He strolled toward her and stopped, his bulk blocking everything else from view. She stifled a flinch as he reached out and caressed the side of her face with his knuckles. "Nobody could have circumvented the measures I prepared. You have a traitor amongst your staff."

"I know," she rushed, "I know who it is." She swallowed; relieved she had a name from amongst the occupants of the house to give him.

He smiled, the gaping grin of a great white rising from the depths. "And who, may I ask, is it?"

"Me," she said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Beth watched as the door shut silently behind Josef. As soon as the latch clicked, she sprang from the sofa, picked up his jacket and fished the keys to the Ferrari from an inner pocket, placing them carefully inside her purse. She cocked an ear, listening for footsteps, and satisfied she'd be undetected, dug into her purse again, bringing out not one, but two glass vials: the vial they'd stolen from Cynthia's safe that evening; and an empty vial capped with a black rubber stopper. Biting her bottom lip with concentration, Beth tipped the original vial up with steady hands and poured the contents into the empty container. She re-stoppered the vial with the rubber cap and nestled it safely in the bottom of her purse. She blew out a breath, her heart hammering, and dipped Cynthia's now empty vial into the ice water from the champagne bucket. She worked hastily, anxiously watching over her shoulder for any movement at the door. She re-capped the vial, laying that too in the bottom of her purse, and settled back onto the sofa to await Josef's return.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Thanks for reading! Reviews most welcome._


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5: The Price

Eyes as dark as a moonless night looked up into his; and the distractions of music and laughter and candlelight fell away from him like a chain mail coat shrugged from his shoulders. He was helpless against those eyes, always had been. She sighed and his hand tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, moving to music he could no longer hear. He bent and nuzzled her ear, scowling at the throngs of couples milling nearby in tuxedos and ball gowns, their blood refreshment hovering too close, fine silver chains looping around wrists or waists, fettering them as they waited to be called to service.

He gripped her hand and swung her in a tight circle, blocking the high-class freshies from his view. "Tell me again, why we're having this god awful free-for-all for these strangers, darling wife of mine?"

She pressed her breasts into his chest, and his balls tightened, as she'd intended, the witch. A mischievous smile crossed her beautiful features. "It's our honeymoon 'welcome back', as you well know my darling husband, and it pleases Cynthia to celebrate these things. You remember the surprise she left for us the first time, don't you?" she said seductively, pausing, giving him time to enjoy the memory of Cynthia's 'gift'. "Besides," she added, "it doesn't do you any harm to make you wait for your … punishment.. for being such a wicked _wicked_ husband, Mick."

He growled, smiling, and kissed the nape of her neck. "Don't keep me on too tight a leash, Coraline. If I want to, I'll take you right here."

She shivered in anticipation. He was more than capable of doing what he said he would. This new Mick had no problem expressing his sexual desire for her publicly, as she'd discovered to her satisfaction during their recent sojourn in Europe. He excited her in ways she'd never imagined he might during their previous years together. He was the one in command now, not her, and she liked it, even though it pleased them both to pretend that it was still she who dominated him. Just the thought of all the ways Mick had shown her how completely assertive he was now made her dark eyes widen with desire.

"Kiss me, Mick."

Their bodies melted together in a sinuous column of stroking hands and biting lips. Other couples swirled past them on the dance floor, regarding them with lascivious fascination, their tongues and fingers beginning to flutter against erogenous zones, infected by the potent heat emanating from the gently swaying bodies of Mick and Coraline. There was an aura around those two, an intoxicating atmosphere of intense sexuality, a barely contained hunger that drove the other vampires there into a flurry of heightened desire. Everyone could feel it. No vampire in the mansion would turn down an offer to bed them both, and if the rumours from Europe were true…

"Mmmmm.." He was getting hard; her moans of approval never failing to arouse him. He raised his head, a comforting warmth spreading through him as her round blue eyes sparkled up at him. He shook his head in confusion, no, her brown eyes, her _brown_ eyes. He blinked and familiar dark chocolate replaced the bright blue eyes. This was the second time in as many weeks his eyes had played tricks on him like that. All this partying must be getting to him. He put a hand to his head and massaged his temple.

"Another headache, darling?" The sensation of her concerned hand on his chest reverberated in other regions of his body. She said in a conspiratorial whisper, "You know what they say is good for headaches …"

His lips twisted in a wolfish smile and he bent to kiss her again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The eyes seemed to follow her. Knowing eyes. Wary eyes. As if he understood what she was about to do and disapproved. But then, looking at his portrait, his eyes had always been watchful, even so long ago - perhaps the reason Josef had been able to accumulate some of the wealth depicted in Gainsborough's portrait of him as an 18th century English country gentleman hanging on his study wall.

A drift of air on the back of her neck was the only signal of his return. She stood as he draped the cream cashmere throw around her shoulders, and buried her face in the soft woollen fabric to conceal her involuntary shiver of surprise. Now matter how much time she spent around vampires, she'd never get used to their preternatural noiselessness. It always inspired a flicker of deeply primal fear in her, an emotion she sometimes wondered whether Josef deliberately enjoyed stirring in those humans nearest and dearest to him.

She lifted her face from the silky throw. He was standing close, too close. Josef was much taller than she, and her eyes travelled a long way up and over his torso, his white dress shirt almost luminescent in the candlelight, before her eyes met his gaze. His eyes were alight with such good-humored concern. She hugged the wrap around her more tightly. Here, in his presence, the quiet of his study had the peaceful feel of a shady glade in summertime. She felt warm and … safe. As if a smoky veil obscuring her sight had suddenly dissolved, she saw beyond the façade their friendship imposed and saw him as he was for the first time. The warm autumn brown of his eyes rescued his skin from the unhealthy cadaverous pallor she was beginning to recognise on other vampires, and the customary playful expression he wore with her lent him the irresistible charm of a mischievous college boy too decent to be really dangerous, but just dangerous enough to be desirable. Surely it would be the most natural thing in the world for her to rest her head against his chest?

She felt as if she'd backed into an electric cattle fence. She wasn't attracted to Josef - she couldn't be. He was her friend. Mick's best friend. Her heart began to pound. He'd saved her life tonight, that's all this was about, just some residual emotion, a come down from all that adrenaline. That's all it was.

"It's getting late," she breathed, the jumble of sensations confusing her. "I want.. need.. to go to bed."

Josef broke the silence a moment before it became too uncomfortable for her to stand this close to him without either turning tail and running, or .. or what? The image in her mind was too painful, too confusing. It was a step neither of them was prepared for, nor one either of them might welcome.

"Goodnight then, Buzzwire."

She breathed a small sigh of relief and bent to collect her purse from the sofa, carefully casual, and began to walk toward the door. His voice startled her.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Beth?"

Her heart lurched in her chest. Did he expect a goodnight kiss? He held out his hand, palm upward. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"The vial."

"The vial?" Her face looked genuinely puzzled.

"You know, the small glass cylinder you had us go all Mulder and Scully for earlier this evening. The one you nearly died for."

She stiffened; squaring her shoulders, and turned to face him.

"I think it will be more… secure… if it's in my safe, don't you? Otherwise - someone - may be tempted to endanger herself by heading back with it to Cynthia's this morning while I'm catching some freezer time. You know, I really could see – someone – doing something stupid like that, like knocking on the front door there and christening herself in the contents the second a certain broody self loathing vampire appeared." His eyes rolled and a weary jadedness crept into his tone. "Improbable, I _know, _but still, I didn't make a billion by being unprepared, even for events as 'unlikely' as that." His eyebrows rose and he waggled his outstretched palm to coax the vial from her hands like an indulgent uncle whose patience was wearing thin.

Beth's mouth set in a mutinous line and she gave him a look that left a stake-print somewhere to the left of his spinal cord. Her eyes flashed, her mouth opening to argue, then as if realising the futility of having this particular fight, her shoulders slumped, and she fished the vial from her purse. She stalked toward him and slapped it into his open palm with petulant resignation. After a long reproachful look, she turned on her heel, attempting to storm off in her bare feet, her bandaged toe causing a slight pirate-like limp. The door slammed behind her, shaking Josef's portrait in its frame.

Once outside the room she clutched the purse to her chest, its precious contents safe, and a tiny smile of satisfaction crossed her face. So what if she could only hobble? At least she was one step ahead of Josef. She blew out a determined breath and headed toward her private suite in the mansion. Nothing could stop her now.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Cynthia and Lance stood on the balcony overlooking the ballroom and watched as Mick pulled Coraline into a tight embrace.

"I hope you have a good explanation for your behaviour, my dear Cynthia." Lance said with silky menace. "You not only allowed Josef Kostan and Beth Turner to enter this house, but you allowed them to leave again, unharmed."

Cynthia's eyes followed the swaying bodies of Mick and Coraline, feeling each touch. She sighed. "They look beautiful together, don't you think, Lance?"

He snorted with impatience. "The appearance of my sister's husband is of no importance to me, Cynthia. What has that to do with your treachery?"

Cynthia's eyes shone with glassy fervour and a hard edge entered her voice. "I'd do anything to ensure Coraline's happiness, Lance. Even - defy you."

"If I thought for one second that you had truly defied me, Cynthia my dear, you'd be sport for my serfs for an eternity. No. Some greater game is at play here," he said, sounding interested for the first time. "Explain yourself now or," an ugly intimacy entered his voice and he placed his lips against her ear, stroking her cheek with one icy finger, "I'm sure you remember all the ways I like to make you scream."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6: The Plan

The front door swung closed with a muted _click_ and Beth stepped out onto the darkened portico, shoes in hand. A waft of fresh pre-dawn wind ruffled her loose blonde hair and played around the hem of her flowing green skirt, as she balanced first on one foot, then the other, pulling on soft black boots up to her knees. She blew out a relieved breath. She was safely outside. For what seemed the thousandth time, she opened her purse, curling her fingers around the smooth, cool glass of the vial to reassure herself of its existence. Her ruse had worked. Josef had retired to his freezer over an hour ago after carefully locking the phoney vial away in the safe in his study. Slowly the sounds of the mansion had died away, leaving its spacious corridors as still as a tomb. She'd been waiting for this opportunity for months and didn't intend to waste it, despite Josef's over zealous caution.

Her warm palms rubbed over her bare upper arms, knowing it was more than the late night air that chilled her. The thought of seeing Mick again after all this time made her weak in the knees, gave her goose bumps, but it was more than that, and she knew it. Behind her, the granite and glass monolith of Josef's mansion hunkered down against the hill in Spartan grandeur like the true fortress it was. It had been her sanctuary, these last few months without Mick, and in a strange way she was going to miss it. Her time in Josef's house had shifted something imperceptible within her, and life had changed somehow, somewhere along the line, without her ever really knowing when or how. Her focus on getting Mick back had been so intense; she'd never really noticed the burgeoning closeness and comfort she felt in Josef's presence before this evening. After tonight, she really couldn't deny it. She'd discovered an affinity for him she'd never admitted to herself until now, and leaving tonight, leaving this way, would change that forever.

Josef would be furious with her for tricking him like this, and the thought was oddly painful. She wondered at the unspoken tension she'd felt between them this evening and flushed, remembering the almost compelling desire she'd had to rest her head against his chest. Thank God he'd been too distracted by their argument about the fake vial to know about that. She could imagine the look of pity and dismay in his eyes had he realised. Josef had never behaved toward her with anything less than complete propriety. He'd been a perfect host, had seen to her needs with a skill so subtle that it was only now, as she was contemplating leaving him, that the care he must have taken to observe her, notice all her petty likes and dislikes, struck her. Could it be possible that he too… ? She sighed. He'd been the perfect host, the perfect friend, that was all. Even if he did feel something for her, neither of them wanted that. Did they?

Impossible. She loved Mick, and she knew Josef did too. _Mick_. He was the one man she was sure would never hurt her, never cause her grief, never let her down - her guardian angel. She closed her eyes and concentrated on bringing his face to mind. The warmth of his smile could melt snow on a January morning, was the only thing that could make a bad day worth laughing about. And his eyes - her breath caught in her throat - his eyes were as pure and uncomplicated as a clear country brook in summertime. You always knew where you stood with those eyes. Not like Josef's eyes. Josef's eyes were the rich autumn hues of a shady forest floor and held a dark mystery she knew she'd never penetrate, not even were she to walk beside him for a hundred years. Those eyes guarded the path he walked alone, and only one woman in four hundred years had been extraordinary enough to waylay him. She laid her palm against the glossy surface of his front door, and caressed the polished wood with her thumb. She gulped some air and wondered at her hesitation. What was there for her here?

The answer was simple. Nothing. Mick needed her. Josef never would. Her fingers closed into a determined fist.

The squat, sexy silhouette of Josef's red Ferrari sat waiting for her in the shadows of his driveway, its keys tucked securely in her purse. In the early morning gloom, the grey pebbled stones of the driveway looked like ripples on the surface of the ocean, and his car like a speedboat, moored quietly at sea. Her stomach lurched, and she knew that once she stepped from the safety of Josef's front porch, she'd be entering dangerous waters. There was no telling what might happen next, and there would be no going back.

In the east, an orange glow ran like liquid mercury along the horizon. It was now or never. She stepped out toward the Ferrari, excitement and apprehension pumping the blood through her body at twice its usual pace. Today, she and Mick would be together again at last.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Cynthia jerked her head away, and raised a scornful eyebrow. "Take your hand off me Lance, and don't bother trying to intimidate me. This isn't the seventeenth century - you no longer have _droit de seigneur _over me. You will never make me scream again."

He smiled, feeling the first stirrings of sexual arousal uncoil in his belly like the lumbering movement of giant python awakening from hibernation. Her feeble attempts at bravado always excited him so.

"As I recall," he crooned, eyelids lowering to regard her possessively, "your screams weren't only of pain. And you always came back for more - no matter what the reason I made you beg."

Cynthia flushed an ugly white, the kernel of truth in his words a hateful reminder of times past. The room crackled with tension.

"Now, tell me what this is all about," Lance ordered, in a voice like a whip crack, "or suffer the consequences." He was Lance Duvall, the most dangerous vampire in Europe, and no former servant of his was going to run circles around him in his own lair.

Why not? There was no reason he shouldn't know. Cynthia steeled her face to disguise her hatred and fear, and controlled her voice, so that only her characteristic mocking contempt could be discerned.

"It's really very simple, Lance. I fed Ms Turner the information she needed to infiltrate your security - oh not too much, not too little, always making sure she had to dig for it, to increase it's credibility - because I wanted Coraline to finally be rid of her. She's been dogging our heels for much too long and I'm bored with her constant attempts at intrusion. She's a resourceful and persistent young woman and it was only a matter of time before she found a way to contact St John herself directly. I merely preferred that it be at a time and place of my choosing. I knew she'd never be able to resist getting her hands on a substance she believed held her lover here against his will, and when she _discovered_ a flaw in this evening's security arrangements… well, _voila_, she came when called like a good dog."

Clever, very clever, but it left a very big question unanswered. "You had them in the palm of your hand," Lance curled his lips contemptuously. "Why not just kill them both then?"

"Coraline and I have plans in this city Lance, as do you. She was here under Kostan's protection. Do you really think I want to be responsible for an attempt on his life, in his city?"

She could see that Lance was unimpressed. "Kostan is no match for me. He would simply have disappeared."

Cynthia rolled her eyes impatiently, Lance was too used to getting his own way. This wasn't Europe. "Think of all the goodwill that would have been lost to us here were our L.A. brethren to have to adjust to new leadership arrangements without the proper notification or preparation. The city would have been in turmoil for a decade. That would have made things a little difficult for us."

He nodded to concede the wisdom of her point, waving a condescending hand for her to go on.

"I needed Beth to return here of her own free will, alone, without the meddlesome presence of Kostan."

A wicked smile of dawning understanding crossed Lance's face. "Aaah, Vampire Law."

"Exactly. The life of any free human trespassing on vampire premises is forfeit. Ms Turner is an impulsive young woman who has both an over inflated sense of her own abilities, and a tendency to underestimate vampire subtlety. She likes to take risks. Now that she has what she thinks is the key to her lover's return, she'll be here," Cynthia looked at her watch, "sometime around dawn, I'd say. And then she's ours. Kostan won't approve of her execution, but he certainly can't invoke council because of it. He'll be angry, but any form of retribution would result in censure – and a fate like the Monaghan's is something he'd rather like to avoid, I fancy."

Lance grinned, his incisors sharp and white against his blood red lips. "And what do you plan to do with her, once she arrives?"

Cynthia raised one finely plucked eyebrow. She had planned for a quick and efficient disposal of the pesky young investigator, but the expression on Lance's face was one she remembered well, and she shivered. Then she shrugged a shoulder. What was it to her? Let him have his fun. It might keep him out of her way for a while.

"Ms Turner is a very healthy young woman. If you're careful, Lance, she might survive some of your games for a whole week before she dies."

Lance tipped back his head and booming laughter rang out through the room, along the lengthy corridors and echoed hollowly down into his special 'play room' beneath the mansion's cellar far below.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – The Race**

Josef opened his eyes. He knew it wasn't twilight, in fact it felt like he'd only just closed his eyes. Normally he slept like… well, like the dead. He sat up, and the lights in his freezer compartment came on automatically, a soothing female voice saying, "Good morning Mr Kostan, it is five nineteen a.m."

Crap. He _had_ only just closed his eyes. He was still a little groggy, but if he'd woken, it meant that something was wrong. He'd learned to trust his instincts about trouble over the years, and the most likely source of trouble in this house was Beth.

"Access safe."

The sound of the hydraulics lifting the safe from his study directly below was so muted, that Josef could only vaguely hear the hum of its passage. He padded over to the wall, and pushed on a metal plate, swinging the safe door open. The entry mechanism was voice activated, the lock disengaging only for his voice, a coded sentence in his native language; he was positive that nobody could access it but him. Still, with Beth, one never knew. He pursed his lips. There was the vial, safe and sound, nestled between a wax-sealed scroll of parchment, an ivory cameo and a sealed beaker full of Black Crystal, exactly where he'd left it. So why was his internal alarm bell still ringing? Beth Turner had his nerves in a complete frazzle.

"VASDARC, confirm bedroom door operations, guest wing, Beth Turner."

"What time period, Mr Kostan?"

"Proximal to my ingress this morning, Primary Public Entrance."

The Voice Activated Security and Domestic Recreational Control System was silent for a moment then said in the same soothing tones, "Beth Turner, guest wing, bedroom door opened and closed within expected parameters, four oh three a.m."

Josef breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled wearily back to the white marble plinth in the centre of his freezer room. He lay down and the lights went out, plunging the sealed room into an inky darkness leavened only by the tiny lights in the ceiling that approximated the positions of stars visible from the northern hemisphere. His instincts _could_ have been a little over-tweaked this evening. Although he'd made light of it at the time, Beth had almost been killed tonight, and the high drama of that scenario had probably just been playing on his mind.

He felt a cool rush of affectionate pride as he thought of her. He really was becoming quite fond of that girl. A smile played around the edges of his mouth as he recalled her daring leap, and how beautiful she had looked afterward, all mussed up and subdued and dewy-eyed. She'd been sweet enough to eat. Any less self control and he would have broken his unspoken pact with Mick tonight, right there against the desk in his study.

His testicles contracted at the thought, the first stirrings of arousal. While he'd never fantasised about feeding from Beth before tonight, the other thing was a different matter entirely. Hell, she was gorgeous, just his type in a way, and he was as red-blooded a vampire as any. He knew he shouldn't indulge in this sort of fantasy, that it was _naughty_ and _wrong_, but fantasising wasn't cheating, not really. That she was forbidden fruit made it almost irresistible. For a moment he tried to resist, just to see if he could, even tried to scrounge up a little bit of guilt about it to bolt the door firmly closed.

Who was he kidding? Sorry, roll down the shutters, the Josef-store was fresh out of guilt today, come back again tomorrow. What the hell, no one would ever know. He grinned and put a hand under his head, the other straying to his groin, ready to lull himself back to sleep in the second best way he knew how, closing his eyes, imagining her naked body, and his…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Beth hurried over the cobblestones toward the Ferrari as quietly as she could, head down, hand rummaging inside her purse. Finally her fingers closed around the cold metal tag of the prancing horse and she lifted and pointed.

_Bleep_, _bleep_!

She winced, looking around furtively. The sound was so loud in the early morning air, surely one of Josef's staff would spring from the bushes and manhandle her back inside under house arrest for attempted grand theft auto. She waited a second, cocking her head to listen for the sounds of life from within the mansion, and when she was sure she was still undetected, she eased her fingers under the recessed door handle, lifting it gently.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a moment, he sighed and stopped stroking, squeezing his semi-hard member with regret. His spider sense was still tingling. Something just wasn't right.

His mind ticked over, thinking about their last exchange: her mutinous eyes, slapping the vial into his hand, saying nothing, storming out. He was silent for a moment, allowing his accomplished conman's brain to sift through the sequence of events, tally scraps of information, recalling Beth's incredible persistence and determination in the face of Cynthia's labyrinthine manoeuvres these past months.

That was it! Oh, she was good, she was very good, but she'd made one little mistake. Although she'd stormed out, slammed his study door so hard she'd rattled paintings worth a fortune in their frames, she'd said nothing, hadn't even tried to talk him out of taking the vial, or annoyed him with petty irrational arguments meant to persuade him that she was responsible enough to keep it. She'd handed over that damned glass cylinder, the one she was prepared to die for, way too easily. He remembered how cool the vial felt against the skin of his palm and he swore, picturing the champagne bucket full of icy water on his desk.

The little hellcat had switched vials on him.

"VASDARC, confirm _all_ door operations for this evening, Beth Turner."

"Beth Turner, guest wing, bedroom door opened and closed within expected parameters, five twenty one a.m. Beth Turner, main foyer, primary public entrance opened and closed within expected parameters, five twenty three a.m."

_Son of a bitch! _

"Time!" he commanded.

"Five twenty four a.m."

Her car was safely garaged in his locked underground car park, and that meant she was taking the Ferrari. Josef sprang from the marble platform, brushing his hands over his naked body to dislodge the tiny crystals of dry ice that clung to his musculature.

If he hurried, the girl was going to get the spanking he had promised her, the one she so richly deserved.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Beth shimmied in behind the wheel, cursing the super low chassis. What was it about men and sports cars? Her skirt was already up around her thighs; this thing was going to be harder to get out of than a football parking lot after Super Bowl Sunday.

She searched around the steering column, looking for the key mechanism, then slipped in the shiny metal arm and twisted. The car roared to life with an intensity that frightened her and her foot slipped on the pedal, revving the engine. Great. That was loud enough to literally wake the dead, and she didn't intend to be around when Josef discovered that his precious Ferrari-kins was M.I.A.

Oh well, now that the entire neighbourhood knew the Ferrari had cranked up, perhaps she didn't have to baby it out of here after all. With a grin, she gunned the engine, jammed her foot on the clutch and dropped it into first gear, surging away from the house with a squeal of burning rubber, heading directly toward the two vampire guards at the security gates at the far end of the long and winding driveway at fifty miles an hour.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Josef shrugged into a soft grey sweater, hopping on one leg as he pulled on a pair of jeans, zipping with care. He was going commando, and even though vampires were rapid healers, nobody enjoyed a zipper accident.

"VASDARC, lock down all security gates."

"Security gates locked down, Mr Kostan."

He ran down the hallway toward the stairs, mentally calculating the time it would take for Beth to start the car and get down the drive. She'd never driven the car before, so perhaps she'd get stuck, put it in reverse by mistake, or be cautious with her speed down the winding driveway in the dark, give him some time to stop this suicidal nonsense.

When he reached the head of the stairs he didn't hesitate, one hand pushed off the balustrade and he leapt over, landing on his feet with ballet-like grace in the middle of the marble entranceway.

"Put me through to Security Booth One"

There was a slight pause, and then: "Security Booth One, sir. What can I do for you?"

Josef made a beeline for the door, hoping that he'd miscalculated, that she was still sitting in the driveway, trying to figure out how to put the car into first gear like most girls would be. _Fuck!_ The driveway was empty. She was gone, and the car, his car - the only one of five Special Edition Ferrari's in the world - was also gone. The acrid stench of burning rubber assaulted his nostrils. Oh, when he caught up with her, she was going to be one very, _very _sorry young lady indeed.

He stalked back into the foyer with a face like thunder, his voice as sweet as treacle when he said: "Roy, please tell me you have Ms Turner detained at the gates."

There was a moment of silence, probably as one of the security guards poked his head out of the security window, and checked the driveway leading down to the gates to confirm her arrival.

"I wish I could, sir. Ms Turner left a few seconds ago, just before the lockdown order came through. She said to thank you for the loan of the car, and to say that if she wasn't back by the time you woke up, that you'd know where to find her."

Jesus! The little fool's neck was going to be used as sushi train by every vamp in Cynthia's employ before she died, or worse. He'd never find her body; the Cleaners never divulged details of their clean-ups, especially not when it was an issue of dispute between vamps as powerful as the Duvall's and himself. He looked up as the security guard's voice went on.

"Ah, there was one more thing, sir. She said to give you another message, to tell you that there's something wrong with the car, and I quote - 'the engine keeps making a horrible crunching when I touch the little stick thing. And then she laughed, sir."

Josef stood still, very still, his face an expressionless mask, and then a tiny muscle in his jaw pulsed twice, and he smiled. If Cynthia didn't kill Beth, he certainly would.

"Thank-you Roy," he said. He got the message, oh yes, he got the message all right. She wouldn't think she was so damned clever when her throat was being ripped out by one of Cynthia's security vamps. His stomach clenched. Cynthia and Lance weren't the sort of vampires you fooled around with. He didn't have much time.

He looked up toward the concealed microphone in the ceiling, "Open the garage door."

It was time the Maserati had a run.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Coraline's eyes widened, then her eyelids dropped, and she sighed, a long low moan of pleasure from down deep in her throat.

Mick raised his head, lips gleaming.

"You surely," he pressed his lips to her hip bone, "can't be finished," he kissed her belly, "this quickly," his tongue circled her nipple, "my love."

She twisted her hand in his dark waves and gave them an affectionate tug.

"Oh I'm not," she said, with a provocative leer, "I'm far from finished - with you."

And with that, she wriggled her slender body, hooking a leg under his, flipping him onto his back, straddling him, positioning her hips modestly above his.

She bent to kiss him, the milk chocolate tips of her small breasts grazing his chest with exquisite, feather light touches. He wound his hand into her hair, holding his hand at the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

"You're my world," she murmured, when he allowed her a moment's respite. "I'd do anything for you."

Her dark eyes reddened; she looked like she was about to cry. That was happening more often lately, and Mick didn't know why or what to do about it. He tried to keep her happy, satisfied, but something deep inside her was always just out of reach.

She sat up, the childlike look of determination on her face almost making him laugh. Whatever it was, he was going to hear about it now. She wasted no time on preambles; they'd known each other too long to be coy.

"I've been wanting to know for ages, but was too scared to ask, haven't wanted to say anything, just in case it would jinx things. Why did you come back?"

"Come back?" His puzzled smile showed that while he didn't understand, he'd play along with this little game - after all, that was her forte, interesting little sexual games that kept him on his toes.

"I've tried for years to win you back, but you came all by yourself. Why?"

He could feel his erection softening. He didn't know what she was talking about, and she sounded as if she were serious. Vampires had no physical health issues, and before today, he presumed they had no mental health issues either, but if she believed that he'd been gone for years, something was very wrong with her. She went on.

"And you have no trouble feeding from the girls anymore. You don't make a peep when you need to feed, you just… feed. What happened to never eating fresh, it's wrong, blah, blah, blah?"

He'd been eating fresh ever since he could remember. Oh, the early days after first being turned were a little hazy, a little crazy, but he'd always eaten fresh, couldn't imagine anything else. He was beginning to feel really concerned. Much as he hated to, he was going to have to speak with Cynthia. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be her.

His eyes softened, the concern in them becoming obvious, and Coraline trembled, realising that she'd pushed too far.

"Never mind," she said brightly, hoping her desperation to distract him wasn't obvious; "we can play some other game, now." She reached behind her and curled her fingers around his flaccid penis, gently stroking along its length, trying to re-awaken it. It remained stubbornly limp.

"Have you eaten tonight, baby?" She asked, knowing that maintaining an erection could be problematic at times for male vampires if they hadn't recently fed.

"I don't think you've eaten. Maybe.." she said, her tone light, trying to recapture the eroticism of the moments before she'd questioned him, "maybe it's you that needs to be eaten," she said with a brazen, bordello girl waggle of her eyebrows. She raised her hips, and moved backwards on her knees until she'd positioned herself correctly, leaning just above his knees, and she bent her head, taking him in her mouth.

Mick lay back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. Although he hadn't said it, Coraline was his world too, was the only woman he'd ever loved. He didn't know what he'd do if this continued. His concern prevented his cock from becoming more than semi hard despite the pleasurable sensation at his groin, and he rested his hand on the back of her head to reassure her that his continued lack of response wasn't because he wasn't paying attention.

He glanced down at her, his hand tangled in the swathe of long blonde locks strewn wantonly over his hips, moving rhythmically over him, her face obscured. God, he was suddenly so hard it was almost painful, and he groaned, eliciting a faster rhythm from her, punching him toward climax like a heavy weight boxer coming in for the knockout blow, _bam- bam- bam- bam_. He couldn't take his eyes off her, caressing her hair, reaching to push the heavy weight of it from her forehead so he could see her face. He needed to see her face.

Then she squeezed his balls and he came, in strong painful jerks that rolled his eyes back in his head, made him arch his back, cry out.

After a moment, he relaxed his lower back onto the bed, his chin dropping to his chest, looking down as Coraline, beautiful dark haired Coraline, smiled up at him, eyes shining with love.

What the hell just happened? Christ, maybe it wasn't Coraline who was unwell.

Maybe it was him.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: This update has been a long time coming and its been so long that I don't really expect anyone to read it. I made a commitment to finish it, however, and want the sense of achievement that completing my first started longer length multi-fic will bring. Chapter 9 is already written and only one or two more chaps will finish this. __I thank and appreciate anyone who has ever read along and especially those who have left encouraging comments on previous chapters. That really makes a difference. Thankyou all._

**Chapter 8** – **The Long Goodbye**

**.**

The Maserati roared down the driveway, throwing out a slew of pebbles as it rounded a bend, arrowing itself toward the slowly widening gates below. Damn! He'd seen faster opening moves at a chess game. There was just no telling whether the gap between the gates was going to be wide enough for the Maserati to get through by the time he got there, but with Beth on her way to merry vampire hell he'd be damned if he was going to brake and wait. He jammed his foot onto the accelerator and zoomed past the horrified faces of the guards at his security checkpoint. The screech of metal on metal exploded all around him as the edges of the high tensile steel gates scraped along the sides of his expensive automobile, then there was blessed silence and he was out and onto the road and in hot pursuit of Beth, _God__damn__her__to__hell_. The panel work alone would cost her annual salary.

He laughed, incapable of staying angry with Beth for long. If truth were told, he hadn't felt this alive in a dog's age.

Too bad she was probably going to die.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Beth's hair streamed out behind her like a golden windsock as the Ferrari rounded a bend in the road. Her eyes were bright; she was happier than she had been in a long time. She squeezed the handbag hanging over her shoulder, reassuring herself that the precious vial was right there and ready to be used as soon as she set eyes on Mick. She eased back on the accelerator pedal. There was no need to hurry now. Josef would be out cold til dusk and by then a very smug Bethany Anne Turner would be waiting back at the mansion to surprise him with the welcome presence of his long lost friend. She beamed at the thought of the upcoming reunion, imagining the three of them laughing together over a glass of celebratory champagne, and began to flick through the radio stations on the Ferrari's sound system. There was absolutely no reason why this rescue mission shouldn't have a soundtrack.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Josef manhandled the Maserati as if the curves of Mulholland were Le Mans, his vampire dexterity never less than in complete control of the speeding vehicle. He leaned over the steering wheel, his senses straining forward, listening for the high-pitched cough of the Ferrari's engine in the still morning air. There was something just up ahead. The pulse-pounding slam of heavy metal shattered the still dawn air. He winced. Beth had messed with his presets. When he drove, the Ferrari's throttle only ever opened up to the mellow sounds of the eighties, and he was the only one who ever drove. Beth was so going to pay.

He smiled grimly. It was time for his light-fingered friend to learn a little lesson about the technical capabilities of the world's second-best high-performance motorcar.

He dropped two gears into third and doubled the clutch as he rounded the next bend.

And there she was.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Beth did a double take as a sleek black sports car drew up alongside her on the winding road. She stopped singing along with Axl Rose.

_Josef._ Damn the man. He was going to ruin everything.

He shouted something to her over the wind. It sounded an awful lot like '_Pull __over, __Beth__'__,_but at this speed, who could tell? She put a hand up to her ear as if genuinely straining to hear him and her eyebrows rose in a smug facsimile of bewildered innocence.

"– Is there a problem, Officer?" She yelled back at him over the rush of wind.

He swore and gritted his teeth and roared something in reply that could have been '_Just__fucking__pull__over, __Buzzwire.__I __mean __it._ _Stop __that __car __right __NOW_', but that was the problem with million-dollar engineering. Rich men liked their cars loud - not that her hearing would have improved any if the cars they'd both been driving were electric Tonka toys with a top speed of ten miles an hour. Nope. This time her dull human senses were actually going to come in handy. She had no intention of stopping this car, not even for its rightful owner.

Josef mouthed something else she couldn't hear. Too bad. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged in mock resignation to let him know how truly sorry she was that she couldn't accommodate him and with a regretful little grimace, put a fraction more pressure on the accelerator. She smiled to herself. It was time to see what Josef's baby could really do. The Ferrari pulled ahead with ease. Josef could worry another day. Coraline's mansion was only another few turns of the road away and she was too close now to let him to spoil Mick's rescue.

Within a second the Maserati had pulled back alongside her. Josef was angry: blindly, furiously angry - she couldn't pretend she didn't understand that. His arm rose in a sharp furious movement and he stabbed a finger once toward the Ferrari and once toward the embankment at the side of the road. His meaning was unmistakeable. For a second she considered returning his hand signal with a less polite one of her own but decided instead to let his money do the talking. This time she pressed the Ferrari's accelerator pedal to the floor.

The car leapt forward with terrifying speed.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Josef watched in horror as the Ferrari pulled away from him at an unthinkable velocity, considering the twists in the road ahead. At that speed, and with her clumsy human reflexes, the next bend would be upon her before she could react. She'd seen it too. Beth slammed on the brake. The Ferrari began to shudder.

She wasn't going to make it.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Beth jammed her foot on the brake desperately and twisted the steering wheel to the left. In a split second the Ferrari lost traction and began an uncontrolled three-sixty-degree skid.

Treetops anchored on the steep slope below the road whirled by beside her and to her horror, the boulevard's edge rushed toward her.

Beth closed her eyes and screamed.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Josef didn't think.

With a shriek of tortured metal, he rammed the Maserati into the Ferrari's front fender, hoping that if he timed it right, the momentum of his vehicle would shove Beth's car away from the edge and back to the safety of the embankment beside the road.

Both cars spun in a sickening ballet of broken glass and burning rubber and the only things he could hear was the sound of Beth screaming and the screech of screaming metal. He grimaced. It hadn't worked.

One of them was going to go over.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Beth knew she was going to die the moment the entire front end of the Ferrari tilted vertically as the rear of the car dipped sharply away, it's back wheels having swung out and over the edge. For a second the car teetered on the verge and with a flash of relief she thought it had reached a nauseating equilibrium, but then it began to slide backwards down the steeply wooded slope with terrifying speed.

She closed her eyes and gripped the steering wheel and hoped she wouldn't feel a thing.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Josef watched as the Ferrari began to wobble, then tip slowly upward. He saw Beth's fingers whiten on the steering wheel and her head lower as if in prayer. There was a chance he could save her; just a small one, and it might mean that they would both go over. With a curse he took both hands off the wheel of the Maserati and lunged desperately across the passenger seat and gripped one of Beth's wrists just as the Ferrari plunged end over end in a series of stomach-churning crunches and disappeared in the hillside scrub below.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Beth jerked upward, banging her knee against the steering wheel on the way. Josef had her wrist in a vise-like grip and she dangled from his hand, squirming desperately as the strap of her handbag slid off her shoulder and along her other forearm and flew off past her frantically clutching fingers and then was lost to view as it tumbled to the treetops below.

The vial and her cherished hope of freeing Mick was gone.

.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Josef had the horrifying vision of the car separating itself from Beth's dangling body and falling away into the chasm yawning beneath her and then time slowed and he knew that if he had to, he'd go over precipice with her rather than let her go. Then the force of the revolving Maserati jerked her upwards, screaming as she was pulled up and onto the roadway as the car continued to spin. Unmindful of her yelp of pain, Josef yanked Beth into the car and released her wrist. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands, white knuckling the car into the direction of the skid with brute force. Finally the Maserati began to slow and with one last juddering convulsion, it came to a complete stop in a cloud of dust and silence.

The sound of Beth's labored breathing was loud in the sudden hush of the crash's aftermath and when at last the world stopped spinning, a grim-faced Josef dug his fingers into her shoulders and hissed at her in a low, furious voice, "Do you have any idea just how precious -," he hesitated for a fraction, " - that _car_ was to me?" Dammit he could smell blood. Tears started in her eyes as his fingers prodded the bones in her shoulders and wrists and thighs, pressing lightly in the places he knew would make her scream should she have sustained any fractures. He eyeballed her irately, "Damn near irreplaceable, that's how." He squeezed the bloodied knee she'd hit on the dashboard and she yelped. He frowned and probed the sore limb gently. The muscles in his jaw relaxed. Nothing was broken. "Serve you right," he said with gruff ill-humour.

"Josef, I'm so sorry…" Her shocked face looked hopelessly, helplessly vulnerable.

"It was my fault, Beth," he said and meant it. He was angrier with himself than he was with her. He damn-well knew she'd go to any lengths to get Mick back. He should have just followed her to the house and shanghaied her when she'd stopped. Instead he'd nearly killed her. Which made it twice within ten hours. He shook his head bitterly. First Sarah, now Beth. Being the target of his affection was deadlier than being a clay pigeon on a shooting range. He should ditch hope on finding 'the One' forever and just keep paying his girls to meet his needs. That'd be a lot safer for everyone.

Beth began to shake like a leaf. The adrenaline had finally kicked in. A tear cleared a track down her dust-streaked cheek. She was going to bring him undone. He dragged her to his side and wrapped her trembling body tight within the steely band of his arms. This had stopped being about a fleeting, selfish male fantasy about banging her the moment he truly thought he'd lose her. His dirty hand caressed the side of her face tenderly.

"How touching," said a bored voice beyond the car. "The Black Knight and his best friend's lady."

Josef and Beth started. A black limousine had pulled up silently at the site of the crash and a cool looking Cynthia Davis looked on with interest at their relieved embrace from the rear of the car. Before they could move, six large vampires in dark suits surrounded them.

"Cynthia - ," Josef said in a tone of warning.

"Oh don't worry, Josef, I'm here to help," she said innocently, but with a gesture Cynthia's men reached into the Maserati and prised Beth out of the car. "When Miss Beth didn't turn up for her dawn appointment I got a little worried and came looking for her." She gave a victorious little smile at Josef and Beth's surprised faces. "And here she is, looking in need of new pair of pantyhose and some immediate medical attention. The poor girl is bleeding." Cynthia's eyes silvered. "Why don't I just take her back to the house with me and make sure she gets _exactly _the sort of attention she deserves."

Beth began to struggle as the men hustled her into the back of the limousine. Without the contents of the vial she'd be just another meal to Mick, if she got anywhere near him, that is.

"Josef!" she yelled over her shoulder. The door slammed shut behind her.

Josef's lips whitened as he readied himself for a vampire leap. As soon as he moved, the suited men reached into their jackets and within the blink of an eye a thicket of pointed stakes pressed against his sternum.

"And as for you, Josef," Cynthia said coolly, "everybody knows how fast you like to drive. No one will be terribly surprised to hear of your demise in what has been a tragic, _tragic_ accident." Josef grunted as a stake punctured his chest, breaking a rib and paralysing him in his seat. With a nod to her men, they put their shoulders to the Maserati with Josef in it and tipped the car up and over the edge and into the chasm below.

"_Noooo_," Beth yelled, watching the car topple from the rear of the limousine.

"Make sure the crash has a Hollywood ending," Cynthia said to one of the men, "I'm sure Josef would appreciate the irony."

A fire would be certain to finish Josef off, and the L.A. vampires would accept without question a new ruling elite in the aftermath of Josef's unexpected and unsuspicious death. All in all, it had been quite a productive evening's work.

The limousine's rear window whirred slowly closed and the limousine pulled away from the side of the road and glided silently toward the mansion and an eagerly awaiting Lance DuVall.

.

..*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*..


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - The Beginning of the End**

.

Beth dashed a tear from her eye. Josef was gone. She'd seen him staked and watched the Maserati fall away from the edge of the road and soon Cynthia's men would surround his helpless body and set both it and his car alight. There wouldn't be anything left to mourn but ash. She felt numb. How would she explain this to Mick? Oh God, Mick. She remembered how upset he'd been the last time he'd believed Josef was dead. Her head dropped into her hands. And it was all her fault. If only she'd done as Josef asked and waited.

She glanced across the limousine at the cool lines of Cynthia's profile with hatred. The vampire bitch was dead. If it were the last thing she ever did, she would see to it that the monster who had murdered Josef Kostan suffered.

But first she'd need to conserve her energy so she could escape whatever it was that Cynthia had in store for her. Beth rested her head back on the limousine's thick black leather upholstery, her mind ticking over with possibilities.

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Cynthia's men manhandled Beth into the mansion's entrance hall. The hands around her upper arms felt like iron shackles. No matter how hard she struggled, their grip was unshakeable.

"Take your hands off me," Beth yelled, hoping that the ruckus would attract the attention of the one vampire in this place she wanted to see. "Let me _go_!"

The echo of Cynthia's footsteps on the marble floor ahead of her stopped as she pivoted to gaze at Beth. She smiled sweetly at the scowling young woman.

"Poor little Miss Turner. This isn't quite the return you had in mind."

"Poor you, you mean," Beth spat. "When Josef's people get through with you the only thing left will be a greasy stain and three centuries worth of sour memories."

"Josef's _people_?" Cynthia seemed genuinely amused. "Vampires are _venal_, Miss Turner. When they hear Konstantin is dead and a new power base has moved into L.A., Josef's vampire associates will do what lesser vampires have always done - sit tight and wait for the dust to settle. Then they'll be lining up here to pay court. Loyalty is a human failing. Why do you think poor dead Josef valued the friendship of your Mick so much? No," she shook her head, "there will be no retribution. No one is coming to make me _pay_ for my crimes." She stepped closer and patted Beth on the cheek. "No one can save you now."

Beth tried to jerk herself free once last time. "You _bi_ -"

"Gag her," said Cynthia coldly. "Then clean her up and take her down to the cellars. Monsieur DuVall is waiting to introduce her to the last week of her life and I'm sure once he sees what a fighting spirit she has he won't want to keep her in suspense."

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Mick lay awake for a long time after Coraline had finally fallen asleep. They'd made love another three times before she'd succumbed to exhaustion and left him alone with his thoughts.

Could it really be that he was unwell?

As a human he'd never been ill in his life and since he'd been turned he'd had fortitude of an ox. He had never heard of anything like what he was experiencing in any of the vampire courts they'd visited in Europe and he couldn't very well ask Coraline what it meant that a vision of a blue-eyed blonde and not her sensual self was what propelled him to climax every time lately that they'd been intimate. He'd be damned if he'd confide this sexual confusion to the ice-cold Cynthia, and his brother-in-law was too grotesque a creature even to be considered an option for a little male to male confession.

No, there was really only one person he could ask. The man was a jackass, but he'd been alive longer than anyone Mick knew, barring Lance, and he'd heard that despite his flamboyance the fellow could be discreet if he had a mind to be. Yes, if he wanted information about this, he would go to Coraline's old friend, Josef Kostan.

Happy to have a plan at least, Mick allowed himself to pay attention to the small flutter of hunger that had been rumbling in his belly. He kissed the top of Coraline's head. After making love all day, she too, would be ravenous when she awoke and it was his job as the man of the house to make sure his woman was always happy. He slid out from under her arm and stepped into a pair of silk pyjama bottoms, pulling a robe about him as he exited their bedchamber in search of blood refreshment.

While he was downstairs getting dinner he'd kill two birds with one stone and pay a little visit to the Rolodex in Cynthia Davis's study. As the Master of L.A., Kostan's number was surely in her little 'black book' somewhere.

A hot shaft of thirst speared through him. He'd have to have a care tonight. He was hungry enough to drain a freshie dry.

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Beth's face was forced toward the porcelain bowl and steaming water splashed roughly around her face and neck. Without giving her time to take a breath, a towel that felt like sandpaper scraped across her skin, rubbing her skin raw.

"Ow!" Beth said. "Take it easy – human, remember?"

The gag was forced back into her mouth. "You won't be so chatty when Master Lance gets through with you," one of the guards muttered.

"Yeah, you won't have a tongue," the other snickered.

Beth shivered. She didn't for a second believe that Josef's loyal staff would abandon her to the mercies of these monsters, she just hoped that their rescue wouldn't take too long.

The guards marched her out of the powder room and across the entrance hall toward a set of stairs leading down into darkness.

A bad smell rose from the stairwell. Whatever was down there wasn't going to be pleasant. Her knees felt like jelly and for the first time she was truly afraid. Beth gritted her teeth. If it came down to it, she wouldn't cry. She'd be damned if she give these monsters the satisfaction. No, Beth Turner would die with a curse on her lips and not a whimper.

They started down the stairs toward whatever doom awaited her.

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

On the first floor landing, Mick tightened the sash around his robe and began down the stairs toward the entrance hall. Below him, a freshie and two of Cynthia's musclemen walked toward the basement stairs.

_Lance._

He didn't know what the master of the house did all day down there in the basement, but he could make a darn good guess that it wasn't practising his cross-stitch. The two burly men were walking on either side of the girl as if they were prison guards. Knowing Lance's reputation with the donor agencies, Mick wasn't sure whether the two men were there to make certain that the girl did her duty and attended to Monsieur Lance as summoned or instead, whether they were there to ensure the agency's asset was returned in good condition.

Mick reached the foot of the stairs just as the trio began down the basement stairs.

The girl…. there was something about the girl. Her head was down and a swathe of long, golden hair covered her face. The back of Mick's throat tingled. Blood, he could smell blood. Hunger rippled through him. Her scent was… it was… _indescribable_.

"Stop!" he commanded.

The men halted and the girl looked up. Mick was rooted to the spot as if he'd stood on a live wire. Those eyes! It was her - the girl who made him harder than the Washington Monument.

Unmistakeable relief and a mysterious something else shone in the girl's wide, blue eyes as she took him in. "Mmmm," she said, her voice tinged with hysteria.

If he didn't know better, he would have thought this stranger was trying to say his name and to his horror, he suddenly realised that the girl had been gagged. Mick didn't hold with the mistreatment of refreshment donors. It was dishonourable and spoke of a deep dysfunction in the offending vampire's character. It made him so angry that even if he hadn't wanted badly to taste the girl he would have done what he did next.

"Take her to my room," he ordered them.

Neither of the men moved. "Ms Davis said this one is to be taken to Monsieur Lance," the less bulky of the two men finally said.

_Lance DuVall could go to the devil. _

"Miss Davis is a guest here," Mick said in icy fury. "I'm giving you a direct order. Take this woman to my room, now, before I lose my temper." His eyes silvered and his hands curled into fists leaving no one in any doubt as to what would happen next should they defy him. One of the men's hands tightened around the poor girl's upper arm and seeing it, his body filled with an unexpected and savage desire to tear both men limb from limb and then shred their bloody remains into a spongy pulp. Mick didn't stop to analyse the vehemence he felt. _Nobody_ was going to prevent their meeting, not these goons, not Lance himself.

If she _was_the same woman he'd been seeing in his waking dreams, perhaps she might have some answers for him - once he and Coraline had drunk their fill of her.

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Beth's pulse began to race joyfully. His room! Mick had sent her to his room! If she only still had the vial! No matter, getting to Mick had been half the problem with her plan and that part of it was now sorted. Maybe he only needed to see her, hear her voice for his memory of her to return. Perhaps she'd have a chance to salvage this god-awful mess after all.

She smiled in anticipation of a happy homecoming and didn't need encouragement up the stairs. They'd had a very healthy sex life and it had been too long since they'd been together. Surely he couldn't forget that? Maybe that's all he needed to jog his memory.

She couldn't wait to kiss him.

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Mick watched Lance's goons walk the girl all the way up the stairs and when he was sure they'd done his bidding, he walked across the marble landing and let himself into the oak panelled room that served as Cynthia's study and headed directly to the rolodex in the centre of the desk. Flicking straight to the 'K's', he saw that as he'd suspected, Kostan was indeed listed. He reached for a pen, wanting to jot the number down. His recall wasn't what it used to be.

The private phone line in the study trilled.

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

A fist the size of a coconut rapped on the white wooden door in front of her. Beth didn't have time to finish wondering why her guards would be knocking on Mick's bedroom door when he was clearly still downstairs when it opened and she saw Coraline standing there.

_Coraline. _

The mere suggestion of a white negligee framed her pert décolletage to perfection, but the way her hair was mussed made it look like she had recently been….

Jealousy made her face flame. How could she have forgotten that this monster and Mick were still man and wife?

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

When she realised that it was Beth standing there like a daisy between two redwoods, Coraline raised one perfect eyebrow.

"I'm here to rescue Mick," Beth said savagely.

Coraline tilted her head. "Looks like you're doing a bang up job of it." She stood aside to allow the security guards to deposit Beth in the centre of the room. "Good job, boys. Doesn't she look tasty?" Coraline smiled. She closed the door behind them and turned to Beth.

Beth clenched her fists, ready to protect herself despite the full awareness that if Coraline were hungry she'd be lunch in less than a nanosecond.

"Relax Beth, I won't bite," Coraline said, her face dropping all pretence of coy charm. "What do you mean you're here to rescue Mick?"

.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

.


End file.
